


Bottom of the Third

by a_question_of_love (roseandheather)



Series: Inning by Inning [2]
Category: Pundit & Broadcast Journalist RPF (US), Real News RPF
Genre: Anderson Is An Excellent Cuddler, Fluff, Keith Thinks He's Mean But He's Not, M/M, Shep Is A Badass, Shep Needs Cuddles, We. Do. Not. Fucking. TORTURE., no sex sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 06:45:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5154131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseandheather/pseuds/a_question_of_love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"We. Don't. Fucking. <b>Torture!</b>"</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Shep is shaken. Keith is busy. Anderson isn't. A little one-on-one comforting ensues, followed by a surprising revelation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bottom of the Third

"Shepard Smith said _what?_ "

The intern, to her credit, doesn't blink. Just repeats the quote, again. All four sentences of it. Word-for-word. It's really quite impressive.

"And he meant it?" Not that he doubts Shep. He doesn't. Not since Denver. Not since...

But the intern doesn't know that.

"Oh, he meant it, sir," the intern - Linda, he thinks her name is - says earnestly.

He scowls, just a bit. "Don't -"

"Call you sir," she choruses with him, a blush staining her cheeks.

"And?" prompts Keith - it's a familiar conversation, one he's had with every intern to pass through his newsroom over the last half-decade.

"And Mr. Olbermann is your father, so call you Keith," she recites, her cheeks still red.

"Very good," he says with a slight smile. "Now, you were saying?"

"Right, Mr. - ah. Keith. Anyway, he meant it. Pounded his fist on the table and everything. I thought he might punch somebody, honestly."

"Well," says Keith, considering. "Not that I object to you bringing it to my attention, you understand, but what exactly did you think I was going to do with it?"

Linda blinks.

Keith sighs. "The rundown is packed solid. Even if I wanted to work it in, I don't have room. No, not even in Best Persons, because if I ever deigned to put a Fox News anchor on there - even that one - I'd be collectively lynched. I'm sorry. I'm glad you told me, but it's not going on the show."

"I understand," says Linda, without even a wobble in her voice, and she turns to walk away.

"Linda," says Keith, suddenly, as an idea comes to him.

"Sir?" She blushes. "Keith?"

"Send him a bouquet, will you? From all of us here at _Countdown,_ though it'll have to be anonymous or _he'll_ be collectively lynched. For 'doing the right thing,' or something like that. You find the words, I'm not good with compliments. He deserves it."

Linda's face lights up like Independence Day fireworks. "Yes, Keith!" And she strides off, kitten heels ( _How do I know they're kitten heels anyway? ....fuck you, Anderson._ ) tap-tap-tapping on the floor.

Then Keith picks up the phone and starts dialing.

"Anderson?"

"You heard too, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. I think the intern who told me has a crush."

"Can't blame her there."

"No, I can't. But listen - I have to stick around until ten for a meeting with Rachel and I absolutely can't put it off, so I'll be back really late. Can you..."

"What, sex him up to make him feel better?" Anderson is only half-joking.

"If you think it'll work. But no, I just meant - remind him that the world isn't made up entirely of assholes, I guess. He gave us that today. The least we can do is give it back to him."

"Fair point. Sure, I'll take our wayward black sheep under my wing. Any idea when you'll be home?"

"Midnight, at the latest. See you, Andy."

"See you, Keith."

It's not 'I love you.' It can't be, not here. But it's close enough for government work.

~*~

Shep walks out onto Avenue of the Americas with a black scowl on his face and thunder in his ears.

He absolutely _doesn't_ squawk when Anderson Cooper taps his shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" he hisses. Deep inside he knows Andy doesn't deserve the vitriol, but he can't help it. Even the sky seems a bleaker shade of gray today.

"Anchor-napping you," Anderson says matter-of-factly.

That's odd enough to stop Shep in his tracks. "Anchor-napping?"

"Well, we can't call it kidnapping," Anderson says reasonably. "You're not a kid."

"Right," says Shep, the scowl lessening infinitesimally. "Well, if you must," he grumbles. "Anchor-nap away."

The ride is quiet, but not awkwardly so. Enough months of doing this means Shep recognises the route to Anderson's apartment easily enough, and he's quietly glad for it. If anything can help his mood tonight, it's the dogs.

The dogs do help, licking his hand enthusiastically and submitting without a quibble to hugs a bit tighter than Shep would normally give them.

What helps even more is Anderson drawing him back to his feet - an oddly serious look in those bright blue eyes - and pulling him close.

"What," Shep manages, but that's all before Anderson's mouth is on his.

He throws himself bodily into the kiss, clutching at Anderson's shoulders. His head swims and the last of his temper dissipates, burned away by friendly canine licks and Anderson's lips on his. All he feels now is want, affection, and such profound _safety_ he wants to weep with it.

"I'm so proud of you," Anderson says roughly, when their lips have parted again. "So _fucking_ proud, Shep."

The profanity sounds strange on Anderson's tongue, but somehow, that makes it mean so much more.

Shep shakes his head. "I lost my temper."

"You defended what was right," Anderson corrects him, hands flexing on Shep's shoulders. "You're a great newsman, Shep Smith. But more importantly, you're a good _man._ You showed that today."

"You think so?" God, Shep wishes his voice didn't sound so _small._

"I _know_ so." Anderson punctuates the words with a little shake, his voice trembling with emotion. "I _know_ it, even if you don't. That's why I-"

A flicker of indecision in those eyes, then. Just for a second before Anderson plows ahead.

"That's why I love you," he finishes, and visibly holds his breath.

Shep only notices this because his own breathing has just decided to quit on him, too.

"What," he squeaks at last.

"I love you," says Anderson, one hand lifting off Shep's shoulder to run a gentle caress through his hair. "So much, Shep. Have done for awhile, honestly. I wasn't sure if I should say anything yet, but after today - how could I _not_ say it, after today?"

"Does Keith know?" Suddenly, it's absolutely imperative for Shep to know this. Because this has never been about just the two of them.

"I think he knew before I did," says Anderson, a smile quirking one corner of his mouth. "He... falls slow, and not easy. But he's getting there. Anything else - well, that'll be for him to tell you, babe. But me, I love you. Adore you. And you deserve to know it."

"I love you, too." The words tumble out of Shep's mouth without his permission, even without his conscious thought, but he can't bring himself to care. "I love you both. So much."

"I know." Anderson's smile is impossibly kind, in the best way. "Your eyes can't hide a damn thing."

Suddenly, impulsively, Shep hugs him. Just wraps his arms about Anderson's neck and holds on, clinging, reaching for the sense of safety he'd found earlier in Anderson's arms.

He's not disappointed. Anderson rubs his back in slow, soothing circles, murmurs meaningless endearments into his ear, lets him hold on as long as he needs to.

"Better?" Anderson asks eventually, and Shep nods against his shoulder, but doesn't move. "Keith suggested I seduce you to make you feel better," Anderson continues blandly, apparently ignoring Shep convulsing with sudden giggles. "You up for it?"

Shep draws back a little and considers. "Not really?" he says eventually, half a question. "Maybe later, but... I kind of just want to sleep now."

"That's fine." Gently, tenderly, Anderson presses a chaste kiss to his lips. "That's just fine, baby."

Some two hours later, when Shep is sprawled out under the duvet, half draped over Anderson's chest, the door opens, then closes just as softly. There's a rustle of cotton, the sound of crinkling linen, and then a thick, heavy body is settling on one edge of the mattress, spooning up behind Shep's limp, relaxed body.

Shep reaches instinctively for the hand that drapes over his ribs to rest in the middle of Anderson's chest, and without ever fully waking, twines his fingers with Keith's and brings their joined hands to his lips.

And when he falls back asleep entirely, Keith's gentle snores in his ear, Anderson's heart beating under his fingers, he finally feels _home._

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, no smut, sorry. It's coming.
> 
> FYI: Like most of my series, this one is being written out of order. The fic actually supposed to follow "Bottom of the First" is, predictably, "Top of the Second" - I just haven't written it yet. :D 
> 
> Thanks to all of you who gave my strangest new OT3 a chance just by reading this! Love you all.


End file.
